


I Thought I Lost You

by bagginshieldhappiness



Series: How to Hug Your Hobbit [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Brief descriptions of death/violence, He just wants to hug his hobbit, M/M, The Barrel Scene, Thorin embarrasses himself, Thorin loses his cool, lovesick Thorin, nobody dies though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3949816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bagginshieldhappiness/pseuds/bagginshieldhappiness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bilbo," Thorin murmured beneath his breath, heart clenching as it was gripped by fear's piercing talons.  Their burglar was nowhere to be seen.  Suddenly the others faded from his concern as Thorin's entire world narrowed to the single fact that the hobbit wasn't with them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Thought I Lost You

**Author's Note:**

> A short fic featuring THAT scene where Thorin becomes frantic when he can't find Bilbo after they escape in the barrels.

  
The water was colder than the elf king's dank dungeons had been, seeping into his skin like small, prickling daggers that dug sharply and scraped at his senses.  His mind, which had become sluggish under the conditions of imprisonment, was startled back into an alert state as freezing wetness splashed and crashed over the edges of the cramped and uncomfortable vessels their burglar had chosen for them. It was hardly luxury travel but it had done the job of aiding their escape, and now they were being pulled along in a rush by the river's relentless speed, orcs trailing them in a fury.

  
It was an escape but also a battle for sheer survival as their attackers pursued.  Weapons flew, shouts and snarls shattered the air, and the ever present roar of the water raged in their ears.  To make matters even more chaotic the barrels spun and twisted at the mercy of the current, hurtling them beyond control.  In those frantic moments there was no time to pause and think.  They only had instinct to go by, with each second a breath between life and death.  

  
When at last the water slowed, as though tired after a long sprint, they could finally steal air into their lungs and collect their senses enough to realize their surroundings.  "Make for the shore!" he ordered as they strained and fought to clumsily navigate the now stubbornly unmoving barrels to the water's edge.

  
When they finally made it to solid ground, dizzy, gasping, soaked, and sickened from the unpleasant ride, they clutched at the earth as if afraid it would give way and vanish beneath them.  Thorin felt his limbs ache and his head pound as he pushed himself out of the wooden tub, flinging his wet hair from his face and glancing around to survey the damage to his company.  The other dwarves fared no better, looking unusually pale and weak for a hardy group such as theirs, and they struggled tremendously to pull themselves out of the water's depths and onto sturdy ground.    
Their kind wasn't meant to be sent down rushing streams in rickety wooden tubs that jostled and rubbed uncomfortably.  Still, they were free of the cursed elves and they had their burglar to thank.

  
_Their burglar._   Though relief had eased some of Thorin's tension as he saw that the others were alive, even if bruised and battered, it suddenly returned sharper than a foe's blade when he realized something was missing.  Someone to be precise.

  
"Bilbo," Thorin murmured beneath his breath, heart clenching as it was gripped by fear's piercing talons.  Their burglar was nowhere to be seen.  Suddenly the others faded from his concern as Thorin's entire world narrowed to the single fact that the hobbit wasn't with them.  

  
His mind became tormented by half formed visions of a small, mangled body, arrows protruding and a surrounding pool of blood.  Another image flashed before his vision of a frail form, white with death from drowning, floating limp and lost.

  
_No._

  
"BILBO!" he shouted, storming forward to the shoreline with eyes raking over the water desperately for any sign of the company's slightest member.  

  
"Where is the hobbit?" he asked no one in particular, voice rough with deep shards of panic.  He paced wildly to and fro with only the one thought of _"must find him"_ repeating in his mind like a bird's ceaseless call.  He refused to lose the burglar.  Not now.  Not ever.

  
He shouted many times after that, calling out even though it could attract enemies from the woods.  That didn't matter to him at the moment.  Nothing mattered if Bilbo was gone.  _"I would give all the gems in the mountain,"_ he realized as if a prayer.

  
He was just beginning to lose hope, to feel the force of grief's crippling weight, when a small and feeble voice answered him.  "Here!"  

  
His eyes scanned the rocky shoreline for any sight of the source, but nothing was seen except for the ground's rough expanse interspersed with clumps of tall grass.  Each frantic step took him further from the others but he didn't care.  He was sure he'd heard someone speak.  He hadn't been imagining it.  Bilbo was here somewhere and he needed him.

  
It felt likes ages passed before he found the hobbit lying in one of the tall grass mounds, pale, shivering, and disoriented.  Unlike the dwarves Bilbo hadn't had the protection of a barrel against the violence of the waters, and Thorin could see that he had paid the price.  Scrapes and cuts marred his smooth face, he had stray twigs and leaves sticking out from his tangled and soaked curls, and there were tears in his already tattered clothes.

  
But he was alive.  Thorin's heart thudded with relief as he drew the small burglar to his feet and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

  
"I thought I lost you," he whispered, giving the hobbit a gentle squeeze.  It said something about Bilbo's state that water poured from his coat pockets as a result of the dwarf's embrace, water logged and with barely enough strength to return the hug.

  
"I'm right here," the hobbit managed to speak, voice trembling slightly from his incessant shivering.  They remained like that for countless minutes.  Gradually Bilbo's violent shaking faded as Thorin's surrounding warmth banished some of the deep chill that was the result of being submerged for too long in the freezing river.  

  
"Thorin," Bilbo's voice was muffled against the dwarf's chest when he finally had the energy.  "The others-"

  
"They're fine," Thorin answered quickly, his arms tightening subtly around his burglar.  "It's you who we almost lost."

  
"I'm alright.  Really, Thorin."  And the hobbit managed to pat the dwarf on the arm in an effort to comfort him.  

  
Thorin made a low grunt of disbelief, still unrelenting in his hugging. _"Don't you understand,"_ he thought.  _"I can't lose you on this journey.  You're far too valuable."_

  
And that's when he realized it, the thought emerging from the depths of his mind in an unbidden whisper.  _"I love him."_

  
The dwarf suddenly stiffened, his breath stilling as he drew back from the hobbit.  Bilbo blinked up at him, offering a small smile.  Another effort to offer comfort, as though Thorin was the one who needed it.  

  
He'd been far too careless with his emotions and he felt his face burn with the heat of embarrassment.  _"You fool,"_ he chastised himself.  _"Clutching him like a lovesick dwarfling."_

  
"We need to leave at once," some of his commanding tone returned as he attempted to gain control over the situation.  It was true that the orcs would be upon them soon if they lingered a minute more.  They had already wasted far too much time.

  
He dared a single glance more at the burglar only to discover that Bilbo was watching him thoughtfully.  "Yes.  Of course, we must hurry."  The hobbit's words were solemn, but the smile he gave Thorin was warmer than the sun's light that had broken through the clouds above.

 

From the way his pulse lurched traitorously Thorin knew that all was hopeless.  Somewhere along the journey he had fallen for Bilbo Baggins.  _A thief of hearts not gems._

 

 


End file.
